Snow
by Tempered-Grief
Summary: A collection of musings about snow as told by several Harry Potter characters. They're not happy, fluffy, musings, so bring your tissues. PG13 because these people have some severe angst issues.
1. Lily

A/N: I have absolutely fallen in love with first person POV. I feel it is the best, perhaps only, way to really and truly express certain themes like guilt, love, and internal struggle. I have decided to cease work on "The Ways of Truth and Love" (Only for a little bit, Tsunami!), and write a few chapters about certain character's point of view of snow. Why snow? Don't ask me. Probably because snow can be very magical...especially when everything is moving so fast, and people take the time to watch a few flakes fall.  
  
Chapter 1: Lily  
  
I glanced through the doorway to see James leaning over our son, Harry. His hands were tender, and his voice soft, but I knew that deep inside he wasn't feeling tender or soft. He is so distant these days. At least he can manage kindness towards Harry. This has been the coldest October in the history of Octobers, in more ways than one.  
  
I left James to the baby and made my rounds about the house, tightening latches and checking locks. Now I gaze out the window at the chilled, dark winter sky. I can't remember the last time I touched the earth outside. Our secret is well kept, but we dare not venture out the door. We are only protected within these walls. Protected from the evil that hunts us, but not from our fears and uneasy silence. Sometimes I feel that I'd rather live with the knowledge that my whereabouts were Voldemort's for the knowing, and that I could just live out the rest of my probably short life without constrictions. James and I aren't young and careless anymore, though. We have Harry.  
  
Harry. My little angel, James' proudest accomplishment. I remember his birth, almost a year ago. Yes, dark times had come, and yes, we were surrounded on all sides by what seemed like horrible circumstances, but Harry had changed things. For the first time since I had graduated from school and practically signed my name on Voldemort's hit list, I felt a little bit of hope. James called him his first son...as if we were going to have many, many sons together. I pat my stomach – perhaps we will have another son, or maybe even a daughter. He doesn't know yet; how could he? Perhaps this will bring us together again, just as Harry had. Then again, maybe this cold is here to stay.  
  
I realize I'm pressing my nose against the windowpane. Instead walking away from this view of my neglected gardens and leaf-strewn walk, I focus intently on a small white flake floating the ground. Another follows it, then another. Snow begins to fall lightly, illuminated by the moon. My mind drifts back to a day and an age long before the Dark Lord, before James turned so silent and stony. I can remember the first time he said he loved me.  
  
We were in fifth year. He was the adorable, well-liked, mischievous, Gryffindor seeker. I was the fiery, indignant, intelligent redhead that he had crossed a number of times. Over the years our competitive edge gave way to prolonged visits in Hogwarts and a bit of dancing at any social event on the calendar. There was even a little hand holding, and eventually some awkward kissing by the common room fire when no one was around. I felt a genuine liking for him, and maybe even more, but I didn't know if it was love. I had my suspicions, but to my logical mind, fifteen was too young to have foolish notions about love, marriage, or a foolhardy quidditch player. At least, I thought this way until Christmas. He stayed for the excellent flying conditions the still, cold air provided. I stayed because the library held what I needed to do my homework. He could have flown at home, and I could have taken the books I wanted to use. I think we both stayed because a few weeks without each other didn't seem like a holiday at all. I lay awake Christmas Eve, thinking about James. I once thought about schoolwork, my too-red hair, my fights with friends… now all I could think about was that dratted dark haired James with his big grin and confident walk.  
  
As if my thoughts could make a person just appear out of no where, James was suddenly standing in front of me, shaking off his infamous invisibility cloak.  
  
"It's midnight, Lil, you know what that means?" he whispered.  
  
"Wha-you can't...how..." I gasped startled. Then, "No, what does it mean?"  
  
"It means it's Christmas. It's time to give presents. Quick, throw on something warm, I won't watch."  
  
True to his word, he went over to sit by the window. As I pulled on my gloves and boots, I glimpsed James with his nose against the glass, gazing out at the grounds.  
  
"James, it's cold. We can't go outside!"  
  
"Lily, it's cold. We must go outside."  
  
He looked at me with a look of deep thought. I blushed under his stare, but he hardly took time to notice as he draped his cloak over us both. We tiptoed out the dorm, down the stairs, and past the empty fireplace. Neither of us spoke a word. I wondered what was going through his mysterious mind. He quietly pushed opened the door to the outside after using his wand to magically unlock it. It was bone chillingly cold outside. The only parts of me that were warm were the ones touching James. I blushed again. We walked to the center of the courtyard in front of the school. The castle towered over us, covered in snow at the tips. The lake wasn't frozen, but the full moon reflected off its calm surface making it look like ice. Moonlight reflected off yesterday's snow making it glitter like silver sickles.  
  
James let the cloak slide to the frozen ground as we stood facing each other. We both began to giggle at another successful after hours adventure in the making. I gazed at James' smooth, unworried face as a snowflake fell from nowhere and landed on my eyelash. He reached up a steady hand and brushed it. I didn't even blink, I trusted him so much. The snow really began to fall, and without meaning to, I lifted my arms out to either side and started to twirl. I spun around and around, with my face lifted to the sky. The moon filled my eyes, along with falling snow. James never moved, but he just stared at me and my foolish, uninhibited twirling. Suddenly, I bumped into his still form. I ceased my spinning as I leaned against him.  
  
"Lily, I need to tell you something. Now, don't just brush me off. I mean what I'm going to say. A lot of people would think I shouldn't say this, or feel this, I mean, but I should feel and maybe I should say..." he began to stutter. Not wanting to lose the moment, I firmly told him, "James, just tell me."  
  
What he said next was not uncertain by any means. "I love you, Lily. Not in the way I love my parents, or even in the way I love quidditch. I love you the way I'm supposed to: for who you are, for who you always were, and for who you make me want to be. I love you."  
  
"I...I love you too. I didn't think you... I didn't know I... Oh, I love you too!"  
  
And with this we twirled together. He didn't even kiss me. Kissing wasn't needed, we just twirled in the snow until we got to cold to stay. He lead me back to my room and only then did he peck my good night. He had been so bold and warm. He had taken a chance and made me feel like a queen. I loved him for it.  
  
I stare at the snow. It is falling like it did that night, not too hard, nor too soft. Without even realizing what I'm doing, I run to the door and began unbolting the locks. I hear James behind me, shouting. He wants to know what I'm doing, demands to know why I'm endangering my life. He probably doesn't remember.  
  
Outside, it is snowing a little harder than I thought. I'm in only my white robe and I've forgotten my shoes in my haste. I'm not wearing a hat or earmuffs so my hair is loose and whipping me in my face as a throw my hands out and turn around over and over again. The snow melts in my hair making it curl slightly at the ends. Normally, I put so much effort in making my hair lay flat, but it doesn't matter now. I don't care. The moon shines down on me, my well hidden house, and my husband who has stopped yelling and is now sagging against the door as if he too realizes what's been happening to us. I close my eyes and try to remember what it was like, being careless light hearted. I remember when I worried about essays and makeup. I remember laughing with my friends in a circle in the hallways, giggling with the girls in the dorm as we put aside all seriousness and gossiped away the night. I remember looking up and seeing James catch my eye and smile a huge, carefree, patented James smile that belonged to no one but him. I remember holding Harry in my arms for the first time and thinking that everything was going to be all right. I feel James' hand grasp my arm as he pulls me back inside and locks the door. I think he's going to be angry, and shout at me for being so unwise. But he doesn't. He just lets me lean against him again, dizzy and sobbing. I cry into his chest as he wraps my hair around his fingers. He place his chin on my head and murmurs, "I'm sorry Lily. I forgot why I loved you. I never stopped, I just forgot why. I love you for who you are, who you've always been, and…and…"  
  
"For who I make you want to be." I finish.  
  
He doesn't answer. We just hold each other. Finally he reassures me that we're going to be all right.  
  
"We're going to be fine, Lil. Nothing can happen to ruin this. We're going to be fine. You, Harry, and me. This will pass. This has to pass."  
  
I trust him. I trusted him when he brushed a snowflake from my eyelash, and I trust him when he says we are safe. He knows who our secret keeper is. He is taking care of us. All my life I've twirled and spun, but he stood still, waiting for me to fall into his arms, and into love. I can wait for him to remember who he is, how I remember him. All around our home, the snow falls faster and thicker, and the night grows colder, but we began to feel a little warmth. Tomorrow, I will tell him about what is growing inside me this very instant, another of James' many sons. Everything will be all right. 


	2. Remus

I forgot to mention something in the last chapter: For all of you who don't know, I don't own any Harry Potter characters. They belong to J.K. Rowling. Just clearing that up. To everyone who has lived in a frozen wasteland for the past three days, I'm sorry. I prayed for some inspirational snow, and it came out of nowhere. Please blame me for any frostbite or pneumonia. I wanted to write one for Sirius, but I guess it'll have to wait. This struck me as better.  
  
Chapter 2: Lupin  
  
My little apartment is cramped and disheveled, but it serves its purpose. It's a place to sleep at night and it has a fire. There are charms on all the doors...I couldn't get out on a full moon if I wanted to. Last night I tried, though. There are scratch marks on the wall, and my knuckles are raw. The emblem of a guardian angel hangs crookedly above the entrance to my living room. The things her porcelain eyes have seen have probably turned her against me. I don't feel guarded here from anyone but myself. At least I can say that.  
  
Last night was a particularly ugly spell. I've slept the day away, but my eyes are still tired. I've noticed a few gray hairs. James used to call me grandpa and try to sit on my knees. He always had a way of making the solemn seem light. I wonder what he would say about his own death?  
  
"Moons, quit moping. You'd think I'd died or something. Oh, wait. I did! Go on then, mope. But don't forget to build me a shrine and sacrifice some virgins. I wouldn't have it any other way."  
  
And Lily? She had always been gentle where James was infuriating.  
  
"Remus...let me work a cheering charm on you or something. Do you want any soup? I just finished this excellent book about some muggle adventurers stumbling upon a queen who is immortal. You can read it next. It's really quite exciting! You see, they go in search of the fountain of youth and all they find is this woman who has been waiting on her true love to return for thousands of years...oh. This is bad, isn't it? Well, promise me you'll get on. I'd absolutely haunt you if you didn't."  
  
I will never know what they would say, for they've been dead a week. I need to get out and move around. This could remove some of my stiffness, and maybe help me think things through.  
  
It is very cold outside. October has turned into November, and the chill has turned into a bleak winter. The streets are dingy and gray with a snow that melted ages ago. Funny, I don't even remember it falling. I'm beginning to feel a little hungry, which is a good sign.  
  
So, now for the thinking part. I'm still a little numb about it all. It hasn't sunk in, but it should any day now. What has become of Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs? Prongs died at the hands of evil, along with the angel Lily. He knew he was being hunted, so he did what any sensible man would: he trusted his best friend to keep a secret. That's what happened to Padfoot. The wolfish part in me growls with feral anger, but I stifle it. I trusted Sirius more than myself, so it was only natural that James would too. Peter was grateful for everything James had done for him, but he was weak. Sirius was chosen to guard my friend with his life, and he failed us. Was it enough that James was killed? But Lily too...and little Harry having to grow up without parents. He would have to someday learn the truth, and then he would doubt his own friends. Peter...always the last, always the smallest. He had gotten Order of Merlin, but it was no compensation for the loss of his hero, and  
his own life. Poor little rat; always getting his tail caught in places he shouldn't. We were never that close, as strange as it may seem. He was always a tad over eager to please us, and that made me hesitant to trust him. I feel badly about it now.  
  
That's two dead, one worse than dead, and then me. I'm alive and almost healthy. My sanity isn't being sucked out by dementors. Then why do I feel as if I'm worse off? Those who died, they can't see the aftermath of an evil-torn race. Sirius made his decision and he is living with it. I'm the only one walking along this street, in the snow.  
  
Snow? Oh, it must have started a while back. I didn't notice. It's falling on my uncovered head and melting in my tousled hair. The gray hairs curl instantly and I am left looking unkempt. People scuttle into their homes, shutting the doors and calling for a warm drink. Fires are started and curtains are drawn. Everyone is preparing for a night together with what remains of their family. They are learning to start over. I am preparing for a night of troubled sleep. There is no starting over when you're the only one left.  
  
A door slams to my left.  
  
"Mark! You're home! Get by the fire this instant; you're clothes are soaked."  
  
"Something smells wonderful, Candace. Don't fuss, I can take off my own coat."  
  
The voices are tentatively happy, as if this Mark and Candace are trying out happiness again for the first time in ages. They will warm up to it, eventually.  
  
Meanwhile, the slammed door has jolted a lump of snow of an eave and it has landed at my feet. `Poor aim' I think. I remember snowball fights on the grounds at Hogwarts. Peter couldn't hit you if you stood a meter in front of him, but James had an excellent arm and even better aim. Sirius' snowballs went faster than any of them, and they all somehow managed to hit someone in the face. He said he didn't mean to, but I knew differently. Sirius liked to play rough. Lily would cower behind a tree, protesting loudly they she didn't like little boy's games. Then, when you least expected it, she would dump snow down your robes and you would be forced to shake it all out before going after her. She was great at charms, though, so any pursuer might just find their snowballs coming right back at them. She was wicked that way.  
  
As fun as the fights could be, we would eventually be called in for dinner or classes. At night, we had the grounds to ourselves, and we could play in the snow on our own time. Padfoot would lead the way; his giant paws clearing ground for Wormtail, who needed a path. Prongs would prance on top of the snow, while I bounded over large drifts. We crossed fields and explored forests while surrounded by mounds of glittering white. It was our own world.  
  
It isn't our world anymore. I am the only one with snow falling on my face tonight, and it melts as it mingles with tears shed for a group of friends who have fallen away from each other. Each of us had our own destiny, but none of us knew what would eventually tear us apart. Evil, weakness, betrayal, and death - and all that's left is one lone werewolf trying to find his way home again. I'll skip dinner tonight.  
  
A mother ushers her children into a nice house on the corner. There are three of them - all blond haired and slight. There is a red ribbon draped around a post on their porch. Each child stops and touches it lightly. The mother follows behind them; a fourth fair headed child in her arms.  
  
"Mama, let me touch it too. I want to touch it." The woman bends over and lets her baby finger the delicate memorial.  
  
I know these ribbon signs well; red ribbons mark the homes that have suffered losses of human life. Up and down the street, curtains begin to cover windows, and the smells of food fill the air. I notice that almost every house has a red ribbon. I am no exception; I have three of them hanging over my heart. The snow falls a little harder on the streets of a recovering world. It's time I took the ribbons down and dwelled a little less often in my memories. Or not. At this point, memories are all I have. The snow-covered forests of my past are no longer mine to live in, for there is no one to share them with.  
  
~*~*~*~ 


	3. Cho

Once again, I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters/ideas that are not mine. Call me melodramatic, but I think that if anyone in the Harry Potter books ever had a mental breakdown, it would be Cho. Warning: This is really extreme. If you can't handle intense (but not violent) themes, don't proceed. Here goes something:  
  
Chapter Three: Cho  
  
I hate this bitter cold. It turns my nose red, numbs my fingers, and does nothing to warm my heart.  
  
The castle looks just like a muggle postcard from some snow-frosted foreign land. It is one picture that I believe I could take, and it would never have to move. The usual trudge from Herbology to lunch makes the castle seem to move though, only farther away with each step. I lift my legs higher and higher, trying in vain not to let the snow drench my robes. The other Ravenclaw girls pass me by, chattering excitedly about something or another. I wish I could still walk beside them. We used to be closer than sisters, but then, last year, we just couldn't communicate. I say it's because my priorities have changed drastically - but they claim that I changed. Well, this is obviously true, but that is no reason to just ignore me. They glance at me surreptitiously, and I often hear them whisper about me in the dorm room. Their whisper's sound like icicles cracking and breaking apart. Sometimes, the noise bothers me so much that I scratch at my ears and hit my head. I don't mean  
to, but I can't help it. It hurts to hear them.  
  
Lunch is this dishwater colored stew. I sit by myself at the farthest end of the Ravenclaw table and stir at the stew despondently. It looks about as appetizing as owl droppings, but everyone is eating enthusiastically. Maybe it's just me. I spot Hermione Granger from across the hall. She is storming away from the Gryffindor table and the fuming red head, Ron, who sits there. Harry Potter is looking half worried and half exasperated with Ron and Hermione both. It's a shame Hermione had to leave like that - she usually tries to say hello or something. I don't try to be unsociable, but I don't have much to say to her. Her voice is calming though, and I think she may be genuinely nice. It's hard to tell who is and who isn't.  
  
"Hey, Choke," a nasty, drawling voice calls. I don't answer. Malfoy will eventually give up. Just not right away.  
  
"I'm talking to you, Chang. How come you freaked out last match? Not that I'm crediting Slytherin's glorious triumph to your twisted little brain. I would have caught the snitch anyway," he brags in a disgusting tone. I still don't answer him. His voice reminds me of a ship whose planks are creaking under a gale. The incessant groaning is making me a little sea sick.  
  
"I missed the snitch. Big deal. You've missed it when it was right under your nose. I don't think you're better than me, you just lucked out. No such luck next time, loser." This is the longest sentence I've spoken to anybody in weeks. Malfoy looks surprised, but he quickly recovers.  
  
"No, I think not. I think you're cracking up, Chang. I saw you almost fall off your broom after spotting something in the crowd. What did you see, Cho?" He isn't curious; he sneers at me. I don't like how he uses my first name sometimes. It sounds wrong in his moaning voice.  
  
But I do remember seeing something. I pick up my books and sprint out of the hall, my black robes flapping behind me. They fit too loosely. I don't really like food, and it's starting to show. I can see Harry Potter staring at me out of the corner of my eyes. Several heads turn as I take flight from the Great Hall. It's not everyday I exist so visibly, since I stick to the darker corners of the school these days. The light hurts my eyes.  
  
The dorm room is filled with girls reapplying lipstick at this time of the day. Hermione is probably in the library, and I want to avoid people at the moment. Malfoy started me thinking again, and I tend to be a little absorbed when I think. I want to go to the lake, to my favorite spot, but it's cold. Oh well, I'll risk it.  
  
I trudge across the ground, not even bothering to hike up my robes. As I draw nearer to the lake, I notice a thin layer of ice covering the top. Perfect - now I can't even skip a few stones to quiet my head. I slump against a tree that grows along the edge of the lake. The water is rippling blackly beneath the ice. I remember the day of the second task; the lake was not so foreboding then. I knew that no matter how deep it was, Cedric could get me back. There, I said his name. I shudder with something besides cold as even more snow begins to drift lazily to the ground. I think it would be fitting if I became covered in snow and no one found me until spring. I read a book once about a girl who had suffered so much pain, that her mother's spirit came to her and laid her to sleep in the snow. She slept all winter, and when the snow thawed, she awoke to find her pain lessened and her body changed. Her hair had grown white and her eyes had darkened to black. No one recognized  
her, so they didn't bring up her past. Her mother said that all she needed was time, and that was the one gift she could give her. It is a nice idea, but I would freeze to death before morning. Plus, I need a bit more than time. I need Cedric.  
  
I thought I saw him at the match. He sat in the Hufflepuff section, but he always wore blue when I played. He taught me to fly himself, and he was so proud when I got seeker. He cheered the loudest of anyone; I could hear him. So, when I glimpsed that stupid Madeline Finch in the Hufflepuff stands decked in blue as she cheered for her Ravenclaw boyfriend, I swerved severely and then overcompensated. I very nearly fell off, but luckily Madame Hooch steadied me as she called out, "Slytherin Wins!" I hadn't even seen Malfoy get the snitch.  
  
The snow is starting to swirl in little gusts. Cedric always loved the snow. He threw snowballs and made snow angels with as much gusto as a little boy. He said there was no snow where he came from, so he stayed every Christmas to build snowman, and to be with me. I forgot my numb toes as I watched him laugh and dive into a snow bank. He even rigged up a sled once, and he made us both try it. We careened down a steep hill faster and faster until the ground leveled out and we found ourselves on the frozen lake. I was scared out of my mind, especially when the sled turned over and we were spilled out on the ice. Cedric, however, took great delight on leading me away from the thin ice and back to the safety of the shore.  
  
"What would you have done if I had fallen in?" I cried.  
  
"Gone in after you, of course." His answer surprised me. He made it sound like diving into freezing cold lakes after other people was the most natural thing in the world. My face must have betrayed my thoughts, for he stopped beside the very tree I am crouched under now and explained himself.  
  
"People lose things all the time. Money, keys, jewelry, their trains of thought...Things like that are annoying to lose, but you don't leap too far after them. They just aren't worth it. You're different. You're more important than any little trinket I've ever owned, and I'd swim to the very bottom of that lake to get you. Not just physically - you're an interesting and finely wired person, and if you ever need to be rescued, I'm here. Now, let's find a less life-threatening hill, shall we?"  
  
We were just friends then. We laughed at how ironic his words were last year just after the second task. He literally had to swim to the bottom to get me, and he fulfilled his promise. The irony isn't funny now that I need him in another sense. I feel like this castle, this world, the very essence of being, is pressing down on me. Noises hurt my ears, and brightness hurts my eyes. Life is hurting my heart. Cedric was more than just a silly boyfriend. I depended upon his intelligence and character to fish me out of many lakes. Now he's just another casualty of war, and I'm wondering around like a misplaced possession. That's why I'm silent and moody - not because I lost a love, but because I lost the one person who ever understood how lost I could feel. My anchor, my lighthouse.  
  
He made a promise that he would always be there. I wonder if I were truly desperate, perhaps his promise would transcend death. After all, Harry's mother imprinted upon him a love that defied the killing curse. Maybe it works that way with promises made so sincerely, that they are fulfilled many times over. It could work; I'll try it. I rise to my feet and take a few steps towards the lake. The ice won't hold my weight, as thin as I am. It will support me for a few seconds. That should be enough for Cedric. He'll come.  
  
The ice starts to splinter under my feet. I inch out further until I know I'm above water that will cover me completely. I'm raising the stakes a little. My feet are slipping, but I remain standing. The ice starts to crack and it sounds like the whispers. Whole slabs begin to groan under pressure, and it reminds me of Malfoy and his sneering voice. Creaks, groans, sighs, and whispers. It's getting very loud. The noises began to form words and I can hear them quite clearly.  
  
"She's always talking to herself. Have you seen her arms? They have scratches all down them."  
  
"Where did she go last week? We woke up, and her bed was empty. She may have been in the hospital wing for those welts on her neck."  
  
"She used to be so pretty. What happened to her hair? It's gone all limp."  
  
"I think you're cracking up, Chang. I saw you almost fall off your broom after spotting something in the crowd. What did you see, Cho?"  
  
At first, the voices are different, but as more are added, they began to blend.  
  
"Smile, Cho. Cedric liked your smile...people lose things all the time...she really is a little creepy...Cedric Diggory was murdered by Lord Voldemort...you're different...Cho, are you okay? You look pale...what have you done to yourself? What are these markings? Good God, child...remember, if the time should come when you have to make a choice between what is right and what is easy...gone in after you of course...remember what happened to a boy who was good, and kind, and brave...people lose things all the time. Money, keys, jewelry, trains of thought..."  
  
I've lost something, and it just might be my mind. The snow is turning into a blizzard, and its heaviness is pressing me harder into the ice. Cedric still hasn't come, and the voices are becoming deafening. There is a loud crack...and the voices go quiet. Well, all but one. There is one little voice that remains. It's Cedric the very first time he saw a white winter.  
  
"It's not right to be cold without snow and ice! They work together. My whole life, I've suffered from cold like the rest, but the snow makes it seem less of a burden. It's a cold that promises a warm fire later, you know? I love the cold. It makes me feel alive."  
  
I didn't share his passion for winter then, and I don't know. The cold isn't making me feel alive; it's quite the opposite. I feel heavy and tired as I sink lower in the water. I can still see the hole where the ice broke. I think perhaps I was wrong about Cedric's promise. I hate the cold. 


End file.
